


Our Dog

by Jitterbugged



Category: Futurama
Genre: Autism, Dogs, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 05:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jitterbugged/pseuds/Jitterbugged
Summary: Fry adopts a dog that he technically already owned. Bender has some qualms.





	Our Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sorry for disappearing for a month, I'll try to reply to comments this time, but you might be able to guess from the tone of this story that I've been through some loss lately. So actually, I'm sorry this is so blatantly self-pandering, but I wrote it because I was sad and now you guys can have it.
> 
> More importantly, this takes place as a little scene in my long-ass Bender's Big Score AU that I've been calling Asymptotic. It's like a personal-sized-pizza version of the finished product. I hope it gets you excited to see how I've completely ruined Lars as a character.

"Fry, your dog won't stop following me," Bender said curtly.

As a matter of fact, Seymour had currently been circling the floor, tail wagging as he sniffed at the robot's ankles. The dog made a curious, lazy sound and finally sat down, head resting on his paws.

Fry crouched down next to the both of them and scratched between Seymour's ears. "That means he likes you, silly." The dog licked his hand and snuffled.

"I don't know if I like him." Bender cautiously folded his arms in front of him. "He smells like a rotting sewer and looks like someone threw up a shag carpet."

Fry's dog had died a century ago, and then he was fossilized, and then he was nearly brought back to life, and then he spent some more time being dead until finally Fry changed his mind, and then he was brought back to life for real this time, and now he was sitting in their apartment drooling on the floor.

The only reason that the dog had finally been brought back to life was because Fry's time travel clone had travelled in time and told him to bring his dog back, because the dog was actually a miserable little thing that he could have spent more time with.

A mere four years ago, Fry had decided that the dog was fine and he wasn't going to bring his friend back at all, only exacerbated by the fact that Bender had gotten so jealous that he had tried to murder the already-dead dog via lava. So, again, it was the time travel clone that was the reason they were here.

It was really quite a mess of things, Bender had to acknowledge.

Fry's dog was a sweet dog, and his name was Seymour Asses, which fit hand in hand with Bender's tendency to climb on tables and yell about his ass. Actually, at this point the dog seemed to recognize "Ass" as part of his name, so whenever Bender did his routine, Seymour would bark at him and chase him around the room.

The chasing was why they were here having this conversation, actually.

Fry sat down on the couch and gently patted the seat next to him. Apprehensively, Bender walked over and sat down.

Within a few seconds, the dog jumped into the robot's lap. "Fryyy," Bender whined. "He's slobbering all over me."

"He has trouble keeping his tongue in his mouth," Fry said matter-of-factly. "That doesn't mean he hates you."

"Yeah, but I just got this washed," Bender said, gesturing vaguely to his entire body. "I'm gonna have to go wash it again."

"I'll clean you up in the tub!"

"Aw... thanks, babe. But I just don't know what to do with, er, dogs," Bender admitted. "This isn't the kinda thing I'm good at."

"There's no such thing as being good at dogs," Fry said with the kind of gentle chuckle that made Bender's robo-heart feel like it was getting wrenched in on itself. "I'm taking care of his food and water. All you have to do is... be nice, you know?"

"Be nice," Bender repeated lamely. Seymour was wagging his tail and staring back at Bender with his little beady black eyes. "How do you be nice to a dog?"

Fry laughed, harder this time. "Sorry-" He coughed, and immediately felt bad from the look that his boyfriend was giving him.

"Fry, c'mon..."

"Aw, I'm really sorry, Bender. I just think it's sweet that you're so worried about this." Fry had a sloppy, lopsided smile now. "Here, just follow my lead."

The next few motions were soft and careful. Fry took Bender's metal hand and moved it onto Seymour's head. The dog perked up at the touch, his tail wagging ever-so-slightly faster at the sensation of Bender's cold hands on his head.

"Now you just give him a scratch," Fry instructed.

"Scratch him? Like, to shreds?" Bender's voice cracked with alarm.

"No, like... here, watch-" Fry did it himself illustratively, rubbing his fingers and thumb against Seymour's head. Bender still wasn't following, so he held the robot's fingers and pushed them softly for him.

"And... that's okay?"

"That's right. Especially behind the ears, he loves it there."

"Oh." Bender paused, and then with the kind of tenderness he otherwise only felt comfortable enough to show to his boyfriend and especially expensive cigars, he scratched Seymour behind the ears.

"Now you're getting it!" The terrier was beating his tail against the couch. Fry couldn't help but laugh again at the sound. "Bender, he really likes you!"

Bender scrunched up into a frown. "I don't see why. I'm a robot! I don't do much, other than fold things into cool shapes."

"Well, you're dating me, aren't you?" Seeing as Bender was once again nervously folding his arms in front of himself and avoiding any form of physical contact, Fry reached out to demonstratively pet his dog. "Seymour's cool, and he likes stuff that I like, like pizza and squeaky balls. So I don't see why he wouldn't like you."

Bender looked at the dog, and then at Fry. He groaned. "This is all so new to me. I haven't remember the last time I've had this kind of responsibility, or been expected to act this much like a normal person."

Fry's smile had finally spread into a full grin. "S'not like I act much like a normal person either. That's why I have Seymour."

"Really?" Bender looked at the dog. "I thought most meatbags liked dogs."

"Well, I never felt that close to other people back in the 20th century. I always kinda wanted a dog, but my family said no, 'cos they thought I couldn't take any responsibility." Fry was back on another one of his stories, but Bender was making a conscious effort to pay attention this time. "I remember they blamed that time I tried to make meatloaf and ended up breaking the TV-"

"What?"

"Well, I mean..." Fry pedalled the subject away with the amount of class and expertise that you would have to use to steer a tricycle that was on fire. "Anyway, I wasn't allowed to have a dog. So whenever I'd get invited to parties, I'd just end up tracking down the nearest dog and petting it. Dogs loved me."

Bender still really wanted to know about the meatloaf thing, but he tried to push it out of his mind. "Maybe 'cos you smell like pizza constantly, babe."

"It certainly helped!" Seymour had been licking Fry's hands for most of the conversation, as a matter of fact. "And that's right around when I got put on Ritalin, 'cos I was spending more time with dogs and geese than in school."

"Ritalin?" The robot sounded the syllables out unsteadily.

"Y'know, drugs. For my autism - well, they thought it was just ADHD back then, but it was the 90s."

"Oh, right." Bender inched a little closer and put his head on Fry's shoulder. "Did it help?"

"Not really," Fry admitted. "About a week into medication I threw a screaming fit 'cos I stacked all the VHS tapes in the basement and realized it didn't feel good anymore. Yancy found me on the floor trying to eat my shoes."

Bender winced in sympathy. He was surprised to find he was actually enjoying spending time listening to his boyfriend recount yet another story of his awful childhood. "Then what?"

"He locked me in the bathroom. So I crawled out the window and into the yard of our neighbor with the scary German Shepherd. I wish I could get you a picture - that's a pretty big dog when you're 10."

"Did you pet the scary dog?"

"Oh, I pet the hell out of that dog, man."

Bender was surprised to find himself smiling.

Fry must have noticed, because he also noticed what was happening with Bender's hands. "Hey, you're petting Seymour all by yourself! Good job, buddy!"

"Aw, I am?" He sat up straight and looked down at the dog. "I am!" It had seemed to happen without him even thinking about it. The wiry, ancient-looking dog was somehow just... nice to pet.

"See, I know when you're nervous you've got this thing about touchin' soft stuff," Fry said, turning to look directly at him. "You try not to let anyone catch you doing it, but you pet my hair when you're having bad dreams. Seymour was really good for my autism, so I just kinda thought..." He trailed off.

"Aw..." Bender was struck with embarrassment. He found himself wondering a lot of things about robots and humans, like 'how come most people don't like dogs as much as Fry', and 'can robots blush too', but did not mean to find himself muttering "Can robots have autism?"

The human's smile didn't carry any hint of mockery or doubt. "I don't see why not. You like counting stuff, and touching stuff, and rearranging all the furniture in our house-"

"I'm redecorating," the robot said firmly.

They were close enough that Fry's nose had now bumped gently against cold metal. "Most people don't redecorate things at 90 degree angles."

Bender conceded his point.

Fry continued onward. "I just thought having a dog would bring us closer togethe-"

One of them had slipped, evidently, because they were kissing now. It wasn't a deep or heavy kiss, not one reserved for the bedroom, nor the kind you would expect from them after a night of heavy drinking. It was that kind of electrical thrumming kiss that made the hair on the back of Fry's neck stand up - a step-past-friendship kiss, a more-than-lovers kiss. The word that came to mind for the both of them was 'security'. They finally had something that felt secure.

They both lost track of how long they sat like that, with Fry's lips pressed to Bender's faceplate, but after an indeterminate amount of time they finally broke the kiss - and pulled each other tighter together on the couch. Their fingers met woven into Seymour's ragged fur.

"I really do like this dog," Bender finally admitted. "Makes me regret all the crap I did... just 'cos I was jealous. I've never had nice stuff like that. And I guess I was just scared of losing you."

"Aw, Bender, don't worry so much about things. 'S bad for your processor." Fry rolled his thumb over one of Bender's fingers, trying to be comforting. "I love you. I know I got a little carried away, but... I just hoped my dog could become our dog."

They sat close, still savoring the moment of each other's presence. "I love you too, Fry. I'm sorry I was such an ass."

Seymour Asses, having heard the important fraction of his name, jumped off of the couch and immediately started barking. Fry wrenched his hands away. "Oh Seymour, no!"

In some ways, that was what stability and security would become for them. An undead dog, a funny trick played upon God, barking at asses at 2 in the morning, forever.


End file.
